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Believe it or not, I was on a date recently. Don’t laugh! Awkward people need love too, you know.

My date and I agreed to meet up at a local bar and grab a drink. At first, it was awkward – as is any situation involving men and me. But he kept buying me glasses of wine and soon the awkwardness melted away and the charm began to take over.

Or so I thought…

He seemed to be a bit more taken with me than I was with him or so I gathered based on the fact that he kept touching my thigh {don’t touch me} and even mentioned meeting my family one day. Woah!

(A.)We are only half way through a first date. Slow your roll, buddy!

(B.)Thanks to incidents like these, all boyfriends are banned from meeting my family until after we’re married!

Speaking of family, my date wanted to see a picture of Panicky Dog. I began to dig around for my phone in the abyss I call my purse which contains the unorganized contents of my entire life. In my purse you will find everything from dental floss to dog treats and everything in between – with the exception of money; very little to none of that in there.

{Feeling around for my phone. Aha! There it is!}

I quickly whipped my phone out bringing with it a pair of G-string panties I had worn during my last bikini wax session and completely forgot about until exactly this moment.

{He looks at my black thong, hanging daintily off my pinky finger}

{I stare at him wide-eyed and opened-mouth. Frozen in panic}

Date: Wow! Someone came prepared.

Me: {Shove G-string back into purse} No! You see, I use them only for when I get a bikini wax. And I did that {hyperventilating slightly} and now I’m done with that {what are you saying?} and I forgot to take them off. I mean out! I forgot to take them out of my giant mom-sized purse. Not that I am a mom, obviously! I’m not even sure I want kids, really. I just… I got a bikini wax.

Date: {Leering}

Me: No! No, no. None of that. No. Not for you.

Date: Oh…

Me: I didn’t mean… it wasn’t for anyone! I just… hygiene? {he begins to cheer up a bit} And… but that would still be a no for you. Sorry.

I don’t know how, but the date continued on as if the G-string hadn’t made it’s naughty appearance. I think that second bottle of wine helped…

In the end he seemed more interested in getting into my knickers than in getting to know me, so I cut him loose.

Although awkwardness is part of my life, it doesn’t usually strike so violently as it did last week. Each day could’ve been it’s own story, really. I feel the accumulation of all these things over the span of 5 days makes more of an impact, though.

Here is my awkward week:

Monday: I had just rolled out of bed and opened the door to take my dog for her morning walk when I hear a man shout and a giant black blur run down the hall. It was my neighbor’s Big Dumb Dog, which is a mix between a lab and horse, from what I can tell. His owner was shouting at this giant puppy to “come” and “heel”, but to no avail. I manage to shove Panicky Dog back into the apartment, but not in time to avoid Big Dumb Dog shoving the door open and running in after her (he weighs more than I do, ok? Don’t judge me!)

I am now standing in the doorway with Panicky Dog hidden firmly between my legs watching as this beast is tearing through my apartment like it’s his own private dog park. I have been awake for all of 5 minutes and am not able to fully grasp what is happening. Nor do I have the ability to speak as I am in a state of shock. The owner eventually comes into the apartment; causing Big Dumb Dog to think it’s all a big game, thus setting him off even more. The whole time his owner is alternating between “I’m so sorry” and uselessly shouting commands to “stop”. He eventually wrestles the dog to the ground, leashes him (which is what he should’ve done before letting him out!) and calmly walks out of my apartment. But then we are both taking our dogs out for a walk… at the same time…

Tuesday: I was sitting in my office when an extremely loud and forceful, man-sized fart escaped my bum. Suddenly the office clatter of typing and talking on the phone fell completely silent. I began to text my family & friends who tried to offer useful advice, but it was too late. It was clearly a fart. And it clearly came from my office. My mom’s response to this story was “Never change… You have a special characterJ”

Later that day I had a meeting and when I got out of the car both pant legs were tucked into my ankle boots. Naturally, I did a quick leg shake, but if the back came loose the front got stuck. If I shook the left leg, the right leg would inexplicably tuck back into the boot. I did a sort of awkward jig next to my car for about 5 minutes before my pants righted themselves – because bending over would’ve been too easy and not awkward enough! That’s when, to my horror, I discover the car directly in front of me had it’s driver still inside. And he was just laughing and laughing…and laughing.

Wednesday: Fearful of Big Dumb Dog I now feel the need to tip toe down the hallway in an exaggerated manner like some cartoon burglar while carrying a squirming Panicky Dog. Once in the safety of the garden, I let her down to do her business. On this day I turned with Panicky Dog to go back up the stairs when Big Dumb Dog leapt off the fourth step onto Panicky Dog who is 1/100of his size. I was looking around for his owner, but no one was there. Big Dumb Dog was just running loose around the garden and occasionally doubling back to playfully maul me. After 5 minutes his owner came down to claim him. I started to say he needed to be more careful when Big Dumb Dog does a flying thrust kick right in my belly. I released a not so graceful “UMPF” and spent the next few minutes doubled over; thankful I hadn’t yet eaten breakfast.

Thursday: I had hung out with a friend the night before who made fun of her coworker for taking a massive poo at work. Oh, how we laughed. And oh how Karma made me pay for it. One minute, I was reading an email. The next minute I was gripped with such stomach pain that I wasn’t sure if I could stand up without an “incident”. I ran to the unisex bathroom because it was directly across from my office. I’ll spare you the details but it was something like the cruise incident. As I shamefully opened the bathroom door, the cute guy at work (yes, the one who witnessed me scratching my nose) walked in behind me. Not only did I have to endure that moment, but I was also able to witness him exiting the restroom and release the breath he was holding while in there.

Friday: I occasionally do Reiki with a woman who works out of her home, which is a little awkward when you can hear her son making a sandwich after school, but…{shrug}. On this day her husband was in the driveway when I got there and looked surprised to see me. He kept stepping in my way as if not to let me pass. I informed him that I had an appointment with his wife and attempted to step past him. Again he blocked me. He then informed me that his wife wasn’t home. After driving 40 minutes to get to her house in the middle of nowhere, I was losing my patience and again huffed that I had an appointment. He then informed me that her mother had just passed away and they were in the middle of making preparations to leave town.

I was flooded with so many emotions at one time that it overloaded my verbal filter and the first words that came tumbling out of my mouth were “But… I have an appointment!” Horror registered on both our faces. I quickly recuperated, but the damage was done.

They make you think that you can reach enough to step over them, because they are just innocent, little half walls.

Well, they’re not innocent! I speak from experience…

In college my friend Allie and I would go to a neighboring food hall, attached to the most popular dormitory, every Sunday for brunch.

This was the one meal per week that we could enjoy without playing the “guess the mystery hair in my food” game. Parents and grandparents attended the Magnificent Brunch. No one ever came dressed in pajamas.

It was an event.

To get to the Magnificent Brunch we had to cut through a parking lot and step over a half wall. Allie, being half a foot taller than me, could easily step over. I, on the other hand, had to go out of my way to walk up the handicap ramp.

Every Sunday, Allie taunted me, “Are you going to beat the wall or you going to let the wall beat you?” Uh… I’m gonna let the wall beat me?

After 6 months of her relentless goading, I finally caved to the peer pressure.

“TODAY IS THE DAY I BEAT THE HALF WALL!!” {American flag flapping in the wind, fireworks, awesomeness}, I thought to myself

My right leg made it over but the left leg never got the memo. It remained stick straight, catching on the edge of the half wall.

{Pfump}

I fell flat on my face and directly in front of the dormitory entrance.

Allie ran away

People exiting the dormitory were stepping over me, pointing, laughing and mumbling something about “stupid freshmen”.

I lay on the floor, arm stretched out, calling out to Allie for help

Allie got in line and pretended not to know me.

I was so paralyzed with humiliation that the only part of my body that could move was my mouth, so I continued yelling out, “Allie! ALLIEEEEEEEEEEEE! You, in the pink shirt and jeans, HELP ME!”

Allie came over and allowed me to grab on to her hand, while looking away is if she didn’t want people to know she was actually helping me.

She then tried to run back in line, but I hobbled after her and held her arm for support. I had a vice-grip of shame; she wasn’t breaking loose. In the end she let me have her slice of cheesecake to make up for it.

I spent the rest of the brunch avoiding eye contact and trying to ignore the whispered snickers,

My friend, Donna, has recently returned from South America and suggested we meet up at one of her favorite Rum Bars. Having not seen her in nearly a month, I was only too excited!

We sat at the bar sipping our rum cocktails which were presented in colorful Inca-like mugs and lined with 239 fruit wedges & umbrellas.

As we got caught up I couldn’t help but notice a small group of young guys at a nearby table who kept looking over at us. Hm…?

About an hour later, they moved to the bar, 2 seats away from Donna, and the glances continued. Hmmm….?

Me: {Attempt to drunk whisper, which really just means I’m loud whispering which really means I’m just talking in a breathy version of my normal speaking voice} “DONNA! {Shhh} The guy in the grey shirt keeps looking over at us. I think he’s checking one of us out!”

Donna: {skeptical} Really?

Me: Yeah! {Catch Mr. Grey looking over again – aha!}

Donna: What should we do?

Me: Lets buy them all a shot in hopes that it’ll encourage them to make a move!

Donna: YOU? Buying a GUY a shot?

I inform our female bartender [who at this point in the evening looks like she wants to murder me for absolutely no reason] that I want to buy the three guys beside us a round of rum shots.

She gives me a look, but I give her an even more stern Spanish Mom look that says “Do what I say or suffer the consequences”. The consequence being that you will be spanked with La Chancla, of course.

She obligingly takes the shots over and makes her way back to us to report.

Bartender: Well that was AWKWARD!

Me: {Funny she should mention that…} Why?

Bartender: Normally you buy just the person you like a shot, not everyone in the group. They have no idea who you like.

Me: Oh. Well… I mean. I don’t know? I don’t usually do this sort of thing {cough}. Why didn’t you say something sooner? Um, the guy in grey has been looking over a lot and he’s really cute, so lets go with him.

The Bartender lets out a sigh that tells me I’m in over my head and goes back over to the group of guys. She’s there for what feels like an eternity, making pleading hand gestures and pointing toward me.

Bartender: Mr. Grey says… well… {sigh}. He didn’t quite know what to do, so I told him that the least he could do is buy you girls a drink. He didn’t really want to, so I convinced him to buy you a shot.

Donna: Oh. Well… that’s still nice.

Bartender: No, it gets worse. {she braces herself} He told me to tell you that these drinks are on behalf of his wife.